


andromeda, we have a problem

by wayfxrer



Series: the assassin [3]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Nova the button vanquisher (thanks Adju), Oh man Cal's gonna be so pissed if he finds out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, The one where Damon and Nova have zero fucks to give, Things You Shouldn't Do on a Mission 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25332334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayfxrer/pseuds/wayfxrer
Summary: damon really needs to learn how to button up his shirts.(inspired by that one tea art of damon. y’all know the one.)
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Original Female Character, Damon Reznor/Traveler
Series: the assassin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755367
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	andromeda, we have a problem

**Author's Note:**

> for the one and only stabby boi's birthday

Patience is a virtue. Nova knows this, and she’s pretty sure she practices it on a solid, daily basis. 

But not tonight. Not as she pulls Damon Reznor into a quiet alcove behind heavy curtains, shoving his taller frame against the wall and crushing her mouth against his.

To be fair, she blamed all of it on that damned, fucking shirt he had on. Maybe not the shirt itself, but the way he’d worn it: the first two buttons undone, the strong column of his neck on full display and paired with that insufferably handsome grin. He’d known the effect it had on her, teasing her the entire evening with small gestures like a brush of his fingers along the nape of her neck, or a firm squeeze on the side of her waist. But she’d finally decided that she’d had enough once he’d pulled her onto the dancefloor, pressing their hips together and searing her with his heated gaze - as if waiting for her to come bare her teeth at him, as if daring her to do _something._

And though Damon has always known exactly which buttons of hers to push, Nova has never been one to back down from a challenge.

“ _What was the point of even wearing this?_ ” She hisses against his lips, pulling his shirt open wider, and she swears she feels a few buttons pop free from their seams, scattering themselves somewhere along the floor. “Should’ve just showed up shirtless.”

She slides her hands under his shirt and along the hard muscle she finds there, Damon tangling his fingers in her hair and answering her with a bold, arrogant smirk. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

Nova scowls at him as she trails her hands lower, almost reaching where she wants them to be until he catches her wrists in his hold. “Oh no you don’t,” he chides, clicking his tongue at her. “No fucking on missions, princess. Not unless you want Cal to have our heads once we’ve headed back.”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, attempting to think up a smart retort, and Damon could almost swear she’s sulking until he catches the devilish gleam in her eyes. 

“Who said anything about fucking, Damon?” She lilts, freeing her hands from his grasp, and the predatorial way she looks at him almost tempts him to reconsider what he’s just told her.

Especially when her hands find his belt, deftly unbuckling it before they busy themselves unbuttoning his pants.

He raises a scarred eyebrow at her, taken aback. “What are you—”

Nova doesn’t explain as she drops to her knees, and the way her gaze burns through him has Damon thinking of little else but the sight before him. 

“Let’s see how good you are at keeping quiet, assassin,” she murmurs, just enough to be heard over the din of the party still going on in front of the curtains. “Wouldn’t want to blow the mission too now, would we?”

He scoffs at the pun, almost tempted to return the joke, but the thought ebbs away when she leans forward, catching the zipper of his pants between her teeth and tugging it down slowly, her eyes never leaving his as she does.

_Shit._

A muscle feathers in his jaw, and the idea of pulling her to her feet and taking her right there against the wall almost overcomes him. Instead, Damon watches with a curious kind of hunger as she frees his length from his pants, working her fingers gently along the shaft and feeling him harden even more underneath her teasing touches.

Damon bites back a groan when she licks a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, humming a little at the heavy weight of him on her tongue, and unable to resist, he fists a hand in the midnight blue of her hair, tilting her head back and forcing her to look at him.

“Enough teasing,” his laugh is a low, rough thing, a dark and delicious sound that sends liquid heat pooling in her core. “Make good on your talk, sweetheart.”

Nova curls her lips slightly, like she knows something he doesn’t ( _I fucking love that damned smile_ , he can’t help but think), her voice a low whisper when she answers, “Gladly.”

And with that she finally wraps her lips around the head of his length, sinking her mouth down until the tip of her nose brushes against his stomach.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses between gritted teeth, his jaw clenching as he lets his head fall back against the wall behind him. He tightens his grip in her hair, trying to get her to move the way he wants her to, but Nova doesn’t budge, taking her time and watching the way he falls apart from under thick, heavy lashes.

Damon’s lips twist into a savage grin. Who would’ve thought his little princess would have had it in her, sucking him off at a party, and on a mission no less? He hears laughter that’s a little too close for comfort from in front of the heavy oxblood curtains, but right now he can’t be bothered to give two fucks about anything that isn’t the wet heat of Nova’s mouth and the way it feels around him, much less whether or not their behaviour could be considered inappropriate. 

(As if he ever cared much about decency to begin with anyway.)

Nova swirls her tongue along the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth again, her rhythm purposefully and achingly slow, and Damon growls under his breath, tapping her on the cheek in a tender yet demanding gesture. A flash of gold meets piercing blue, and Nova gets the message, slackening her jaw in coy invitation. 

One that Damon doesn’t hesitate to accept.

The smile he gives her is wicked and razor-sharp as he thrusts himself back into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat in one smooth stroke. She nearly chokes on the way he fills her up, but now that she’s let him set the pace he’s merciless, the way he’s fucking her mouth hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

_There it is_ , he thinks to himself with fierce pride, seeing the way she still rises to the challenge despite it all, meeting his eyes defiantly and taking in everything he gives her. _That’s my girl_. 

_Mine._

The last word streaks through his thoughts possessively as he stares down at the golden-eyed princess on her knees for him, letting him use her as he pleases, and with another low growl he picks up the pace, fucking into her relentlessly and clawing towards the high that he’s been chasing ever since she’d ripped his goddamn shirt open, drawing closer and closer and _closer_ —

**_“AND NOW, YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE, ESTEEMED GUESTS! LET US WELCOME OUR MOST HONORED PATRONS FOR TODAY…”_ **

An enthusiastic voice booms loudly over the speakers, and Damon freezes upon hearing the thunderous sounds of cheering and applause. Nova does too, immediately snapping out of it and slipping him out of her mouth, and Damon nearly curses out loud at the sensation, slamming his fist against the wall. 

This is their cue. This is what they’ve been waiting for. 

“You got eyes on them?” A grumpy, tinny voice crackles through the comms they’re wearing, checking up on the situation. Cal.

Nova taps a button on her comms, activating the microphone transmission. “We will soon,” she answers, her voice raspy and hoarse - a fact that Damon notes smugly as he tucks himself back into his pants, still half-hard and unsatisfied. “Will report back when we do.”

She taps the comms again, disabling her transmission and getting to her feet. Damon eyes the way she’s suddenly the perfect picture of calm as she dusts her knees off, noting the stark contrast between her a few moments ago and her now, and can’t help the way his blood heats at the implication. 

_Only I get to see you this way. Only I get to bring you to your knees._

The princess reaches over, noticing the way Damon’s blazer has fallen open and pinning it back into place. “It’s a shame about the interruption,” she says with a knowing smile on her face. “Guess you’ve gotta hold out for the rest of the night.”

Before he can even entertain the idea of pinning her to the wall and returning the torment tenfold, Nova turns her back on him, gesturing for him to follow with a light squeeze of his bicep as she maneuvers her way past the curtains. Alone, the assassin lets loose a breath, chuckling to himself and making sure his clothes are in place before he strides out boldly from the shadows.

If the outcome of forgetting a few buttons held such delicious promise, then perhaps he ought to continue being this forgetful after all.

**Author's Note:**

> listened to magnets by disclosure ft. lorde on repeat while writing this, so if you're looking for the vibe, this is it


End file.
